


Westerosi Host Club

by LilyRose9



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 23:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17334449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRose9/pseuds/LilyRose9
Summary: A crossover idea I had via text with my friends that spawned into actual words on a page. The concept is that each chapter/segment is an episode from Ouran translated into the world of Game of Thrones. Each chapter would have different characters playing host members and different Haruhi's based off the episode. The pairings would vary from chapter to chapter as well.First chapter has:Haruhi-Sansa StarkTamaki-Oberyn MartellKyoya-Tyrion LannisterHoney-Podrick PayneMori-The HoundKaoru-BronnHikaru-Jaime Lannister





	Westerosi Host Club

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of working on my many many many WIP's I decided to start a completely new one! Though to be fair, this one is meant to be a bit less serious than The Wager or Where Do We Go From Here. Any and all feedback is appreciated as I'm kind of just throwing this idea into the universe to see if others find it as amusing as I do.

Chapter One: The Vase

    Sansa just wanted to find somewhere quiet to rest. Cersei had been more malicious than ever lately, and just that morning she’d had Sansa pulled into her solar to dress her up in new outfits “more befitting to her station”. The shapeless clothes were a mockery of the gowns Sansa herself had once painstakingly made as a child, the grey that once was a memory of home and Stark colors, poisoned by Cersei’s malevolence. She’d tried to hide in the gardens, but Margaery and her cousins had taken them over in an attempt to hide from Joffrey, which led Sansa to her current quest of finding somewhere in the godforsaken keep to hide and rest her head without worry of Cersei or one of her minions appearing around the corner. Sidestepping a rather rusted set of armor haphazardly slumped against the walls, Sansa finally found what she was looking for. 

     A single door along the smooth red walls of the keep. Reaching out, she grasped the knob and turned it, opening the door slowly as she inched forward, careful to not trip over the ridiculously long hem of her new gown. Light streamed across her face as the door opened fully to reveal a large crackling fire and the indolent, reclining forms of six of King’s Landing’s most notorious men. 

     It was the Westerosi Host Club, a collection of noblemen from around Westeros who gathered together and did things that her mother warned her about for years. Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne and King of the Club, a man known for his lascivious appetites. Tyrion Lannister, the Shadow King and Former Hand to Joffrey, a dwarf in height yet a giant when it came to brains. Podrick Payne, the sweetest and gentlest squire in the capital. The Hound, Podrick’s distant cousin and fearsome protector, disfigured by his elder brother as a child, The Hound was a man of few words. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, a newly knighted former sellsword and close friend of the brothers Lannister. And finally Jaime Lannister, the mischievous sharp-tongued Kingslayer who was rumored to have an incestuous relationship with his twin. 

     Staggering back, Sansa tried to turn and run away but someone grabbed her arm pulling her back. Her skirts tangled along her feet as she stumbled into the leather clad arms of Ser Bronn. 

    “Look at what we have here lads, a ginger alley cat? What you doing so deep in the castle girl?” Bronn’s voice loomed over her and Sansa felt herself curl inward, the last thing she had wanted to do was draw the attention of the Westerosi Host Club.

“I’m sorry Ser, I didn’t look where I was going. I got lost…” Sansa stammered out, pulling away from Bronn as she started to inch towards the door. 

“Don’t be shy, come have a drink with us, we don’t bite…” Tyrion Lannister’s voice called out from the golden couches at the center of the room. Sansa felt her eyes unbidden flicker over to him and his companions. Shuffling her feet, she pulled her sleeves further down her arms, ever aware of the livid bruises Joffrey had given her the night before, now exacerbated by Bronn’s none too gentle grasp. 

    “I really must be going my lord, I have duties to attend to,” maybe she thought desperately, her feet scuffing the floors, maybe if they think I’m just a serving girl, if they think I’m a nobody, they’ll leave me alone. Not paying attention to her surroundings, Sansa took her freedom from Bronn’s grasp to turn heel and run away. Unfortunately for her, her mad dash for freedom was impeded by an ornate vase aligned in front of the doorway. Crashing into the pedestal where it sat, Sansa had a brief moment of clarity, where she realized once more that she must have been cursed by the old gods and new to have such rotten luck. The vase hit the floor in a spray of reds and golds, porcelain shattering as it hit the solid stone floors of the Red Keep. Sansa herself ended up face first on the ground, her hands catching on a shard of the vase, cutting open her palms. A sharp cry fell from her lips and she pulled her arm into her chest, biting her lips to keep the tears at bay, no one would see her cry, not Joffrey, not these men, not after what happened with her father.

    “Are you alright milady?” a soft voice broke through the haze of pain and she lifted her head to see the mismatched eyes of the Imp of Casterly Rock. He was holding out a handkerchief as he knelt before her, and she was struck with the certainty, he knew who she was. Taking the handkerchief, she wrapped it around her hand, wincing as the fabric stuck to the open cut. 

     “Here,do you need assistance standing,” the accent puzzled her for a moment, but as she was pulled to her feet she recognized Prince Oberyn of Dorne. 

     “I…” before she could reply the Prince had whisked her to the couches, setting her down before pulling away the handkerchief to look at the cut. 

     “Podrick, go fetch me my maester’s kit from the back room,” Oberyn turned to the young man, his eyes flashing as Pod stuttered and quickly set off to do as he bid. 

     “She’s quite clumsy isn’t she?” Jaime Lannister smirked as he knelt down before Sansa’s face but upon looking at her, his green eyes widened and he rocked back on his heels a second, “Oh… isn’t this, interesting.”

    “Isn’t what interesting Lannister?” The Hound grumbled, he hadn’t moved from his spot in the couch next to Sansa’s. 

    “How much wine we’ve drunk today of course, if I didn’t know better I’d say we’ve drank the cellars dry,” Jaime turned and smiled at the disfigured man, “But of course that’s impossible considering how much Robert used to drink.”

    “He drank almost as much as me,” Tyrion laughed.

    “And got twice as much pussy, but that’s what you get for being king I imagine,” Bronn added, “Sorry about yanking on your arm and spooking yeh lass,” the last few words were directed at Sansa who had a hard time controlling her facial expressions at the vulgarity of his prior words. 

    “Here you go Prince Oberyn,” Pod handed Oberyn the large black basket, his brown eyes wide as they flickered over to Sansa. He had accompanied her once or twice on her walks in the gardens, citing that pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone. Sansa had blushed each time, though she didn’t quite trust him because of who he served, Pod was a sweet boy and she couldn’t help but like him.

    “Ah. Thanks, now this may sting just a bit. I’m going to wipe this down with tea tree oil to kill any infection alright? Then I’ll seal it with a layer of honey, keep it wrapped for the next day or so,” Oberyn went about treating Sansa’s hand, his own calloused yet gentle as he applied the thin layer of honey along the jagged cut, mopping up the excess with Tyrion’s handkerchief.

    “Thank you,” Sansa whispered, she wasn’t quite sure why the Prince of Dorne would be so gentle towards a servant girl, but she wasn’t going to question it. 

    “Now that that is out of the way, why don’t you join us for a drink and we can discuss repayment. You did just break a priceless vase after all, it was a gift from the Iron Bank when Joffrey became king,” Sansa visibly recoiled at the name Joffrey and the concept of repayment. What sort of foul, twisted things would these men come up with?

    “Careful Imp, you’re scaring the poor thing,” Bronn chuckled as Tyrion poured himself another glass of wine. Before the girl had arrived they’d all been discussing a new form of entertainment, Bronn himself had suggested bringing in some whores from one of the finer brothels, but Pod’s spit take had thrown that one out the window. Perhaps the entrance of this skittish little girl would liven things up a bit more. 

    “I, I’m not, you shouldn’t,” Sansa couldn’t get the words out.

    The Hound laughed, a loud rough bark that sent Sansa jumping once more. He wasn’t sure about the other idiots, but he’d recognized the little bird as soon as she began to sing. Her shaky words and pleasant courtesies marked her as a lady, so if his companions weren’t complete and utter cunts, then they’d figure out who she was soon, bad haircut or not.

    “Now little one, don’t be shy. Like the Lannister said, we don’t bite. Have a glass of wine, maester’s orders,” Oberyn reached out and took her uninjured hand and placed a glass in it.

    “You didn’t even finish your schooling did you,” Jaime sniped.

    “Eh, it is relative. I forged several chains in my time at the Citadel, one that included healing,” Oberyn replied.

    “Drink up girl,” Tyrion nodded, winking when Sansa sent a startled look towards him. 

    Lifting the cup to her lips, Sansa took a tentative sip wincing at the bitter contrasts of flavors as they hit her tongue. She lowered the glass after a second and looked up at the Dornish prince who was smiling at her. She felt her lips quirk in the approximation of a smile, his earnest joy at seeing her drink was surprising, not what she expected from a prince, but then with his membership in the host club, maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. 

    Oberyn was intrigued by the skittish girl, when she spoke she spoke softly but intelligently with an accent he couldn’t quite place. She had an unusual beauty to her, pale cheeks and big blue eyes, her hair brutally shorn close to the scalp, uneven and in patches. 

    “So lass, what were you doing in our neck of the woods?” Bronn asked as he settled himself down on the couch next to her. There was something familiar… oh, he leaned closer and brushed a finger along her collarbone, wincing as she flinched at the touch, she used to have long red hair, like fire in the morning dawn. It was the Stark girl. Gods what had the Lannister done to her now. Shaking his head he wondered if it might have been a good thing after all that she stumbled into their room, the host club was known for catering to women. Hopefully Tyrion had picked up on who she was and was plotting out how to make this advantageous for them and her. 

    “I was just walking by, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Sansa took another sip of wine, maybe it would give her courage. 

    “Yes you just happened to be walking by an abandoned corridor,” Oberyn scoffed, a laugh building in chest as he watched the girl twitch in the seat across from him. A light blush was creeping up her neck as she sipped at the wine, she was a lovely young thing, even if she did have a rather, unfortunate haircut. 

    “I...wasn’t looking where I was going, I apologize. I will... I will pay back whatever the vase was worth. I promise,” Sansa whispered, her voice strengthening as she continued, “It may take time, but I am honest, I will pay it back.”

    “Yes, you will,” Tyrion nodded a smirk lighting his face making him look several years younger. 

    “Stop scaring her you little fuck,” the Hound snapped.

    “Fine, I apologize my lady if I’ve frightened you, I’ve been told I am rather terrifying,” Tyrion toasted at her, “So I have thought of a mutually beneficial relationship for all of us where you pay off your debt and we are provided with a modicum of entertainment outside our normal day to day.”

    Sansa nodded as she nibbled at her lip, surely they wouldn’t force her into anything indecent? They’d been alright so far, if a bit coarse. It wouldn’t hurt to listen, it’s not as if she was in the place to run away, they’d proven that.

    “If you weren’t aware my lady, we are an exclusive club of Westeros’s finest lords and knights, and to amuse ourselves, we cater to the ladies of Westeros. Now I know what you’re thinking,” Sansa sincerely doubted that the Imp knew what she was thinking, but she let him continue, “But we don’t always deal in that sordid sort of business, rather we exist to add levity and romance to the lives of the women of Westeros.”

    Oberyn took up the topic from there, “We offer an escape from the harsh environment of the Red Keep, of the wars going on around us. We entertain select women, with songs, with poetry, with debates, any way we can. We maintain the facade of a more salacious nature to keep suspicious eyes,” here he looked to Jaime, the implication clear, “From peeking into our affairs.”

    “Yes, and we would like to offer our time to you. We can provide you with a safe space for some of your days, away from Cersei and from Joffrey. In return, you can help us entertain the other women, listen to what they need and help us better help them… What do you say, Lady Stark?” Tyrion’s final words sent Sansa into a fit. Of course he knew who she was, of course they all knew. Was this a trap? Did she have any choice?

    Oberyn meanwhile, was in shock. This poor, beaten down beauty was Sansa Stark, the daughter of the late Ned Stark Warden of the North and Catelyn Tully. What had happened to the poor girl to have turned such an illustrious lady into such a quiet mouse. The little Lannister’s plan to engage her as one of their compatriots and clients began to make sense, he was trying to protect her. Turning to look at the shaking girl, Oberyn reached out and placed a gentle hand on her injured one, calming the shakes. 

    “My lady, I know it may be hard to believe. But here we are true knights and lords, we do not hurt little girls in Dorne and I vow we will not here, we will protect you. In these chambers, you are safe, you have my word as a Prince of Dorne.”

     Sansa met the prince’s gaze, and let her eyes flicker to each of the men in the room. They were all different sorts, highborn lords to newly named knights and squires. But they all held one thing in common, one thing that she had realized after the fact, Joffrey didn’t have, compassion in their eyes. Littlefinger had offered to help her escape the Red Keep, but he had done little to make good on that offer. Lord Tyrion had stopped Joffrey from having the Kingsguard beat her, and Pod and Bronn were with him then. The Hound saved her from the rapists during the riot. Jaime Lannister was said to have been released by her mother on the promise that he would bring her back. And Prince Oberyn had just tended to her injury, in fact it was his first response rather than yelling at her for breaking the vase. She had so few allies here, with Margaery spending so much time prepping for the wedding these days…

    “Okay, what do I need to do?”

 


End file.
